Desperate Men
by LadyGranuaille
Summary: The mishaps of the English Navy following the return of Captain Norrington. Beckett and Jones' past, will the crew of the Flying Dutchmen be forever enslaved to the EITC? Also, learn about a surprising twist of family ties betwee Lord Cutler Beckett and ?
1. Chapter 1

_I know, I know. I own nothing. Trust me, if I did, I wouldn't have confused the plot lines in DMC so much. Sam, Skinner, Maria and the butler guy are all mine, though._

_Oh yeah, the pre-quel to this Fic is called 'The Sparrow and the Swan". It has two 'companion' type Fics, "Love of the Sea", dealing with Elizabeth and Jack, and also "The Summoning", dealing with Will, Barbossa, Gibbs and the rest of the crew. There'll be a final sequel to all three, but I'm yet sure what I'll call it. Enjoy!_

Chapter One: To be the Hangman

Becket sat behind his desk, a tin of snuff to his left and a pile of unsigned documents on the right. He sat, bored looking, and listening to the man standing before him. Norrington had just received the ransom note, and had considered it worthy cause to break his house arrest. He had been placed under such upon arriving ship-less two days before.

Norrington had finally finished relating his harrowing journey to Becket. His Navy issue uniform was in poor shape, and he was sweating profusely. Beckett took a bit of snuff before addressing him,

"So, you're telling me that you took the liberty of going off course to wed a fugitive whilst you were on strict orders to report back to me with the whereabouts of the remaining crew of the Black Pearl. And in addition, you took on a stowaway that pirated the only god-damned ship available for currier work?!"

"In essence, milord, yes."

"And now you've received a barter notice, from Jones?"

"It demands the Heart in exchange for my...wife."

Beckett snorted to himself. He had met the aforementioned 'wife'. And he couldn't imagine why any man would bother with such a classless wench. He found it more likely that she had convinced Norrington to abandon his ship in a similar fashion to how Beckett himself had been persuaded: at gun point. Then why did the man cling to this ridiculous story? Beckett had mentioned it to the be-deviled sea captain. Jones had been just as confounded to the ransom note's sender as he had been. Unless of course someone was moonlighting as Jones in the attempt to cover up their own identity...Of course! The very man Beckett was after, Sparrow!

Not wanting Norrington to lose heart that his 'wife' had in fact been kidnapped by pirates, Beckett kept his thoughts to himself. Instead, he told the Captain,

"James, I shall give you one more chance. But I have no more ships to lend you. Therefore, I leave you with two choices-"

He was interrupted by the entrance of an errand boy.

"What do you want?"

"Sir, there's that ship, the vessel without a name?"

"What of it? Have any of the crew been identified?"

"Well, perhaps, sir, milord. It's just that, well, sir..."

"Get out with it boy, you try Lord Becket's patience!"

Norrington was on his last straw. He didn't need nervous lads getting in the way of his revenge.

"Well, sirs, that ship has just lifted anchor and"

He gulped in his throat nervously,

"Left."

Beckett slammed the desk with his fist,

"Damn!"

But Norrington remained calm. Something the boy had said had given him hope,

"You said that 'perhaps' some of the crew had been identified. Who was onboard?"

The boy fidgeted with a bit of lose string on his tunic,

"Well, sirs, this not being of any information that would be verifiable if you catch my meaning'"

He paused and Beckett nodded his head in encouragement, even rumors were of his attention,

"Well, I heard on of the dock hands, one of the older gentlemen, sirs, well, he said to me, he said, 'That there is Jack Sparrow, or I'm a clam.' And I looked at the ship but could hardly make any of them out."

"What is your point, lad?"

"Well, sirs, I takes out my scope to have a look see who is on the ship, and I sees a gentlemen of an outlandish sort."

Here he paused, for encouragement. Beckett eagerly obliged, his desire to hunt down Sparrow was consuming,

"Can you describe the man?"

Seeing his opportune position, the boy figured he take a chance at barter,

"Well, see, my memory is a bit foggy, I can't quite remember."

He smiled at the military men and rubbed his fingers along his thumb.

"If I had somewhat to remind me..."

This was too much for Norrington, he picked the boy up by the scruff of his neck,

"If you think that Lord Beckett, a King's man, is going to pay the likes of you for information that you owe him, as a civil duty to the crown, than-"

Becket had stood up and walked solidly over to the captain. Norrington let the boy's neck go, but turned him round to face the lord and kept his hands all-too-firmly on the lad's shoulders.

"Now, James. This boy and his family have been made poor by the acts of pirates. There's no reason to begrudge him if he wants a little backing for his efforts."

Here, Beckett flipped the lad a gold coin. He caught it in midair,

"Now that's more like it, gov'nor."

He pocketed the prize and continued his oration,

"He had an outlandish look to him, as I said. His hair was this tangle of black dreads, and what was topped off with a big old hat. He walked about sort of drunken like, you might say. He also had a good deal more black smear bout his eyes than you see on most sailors, like he was sailing West all his life. And he had a lady friend."

Norrington's fingers crushed into the boy's collarbone,

"Ow!"

He cringed, a little more than necessary. Beckett motioned for Norrington to release him.

"Can you describe the woman?"

The boy patted his empty breast pocket,

"My memory, it's foggy again..."

Beckett had had enough. He pulled his revolver and held it to the Adam's apple of the boy.

"You're quite well paid already."

He smiled and the boy swallowed in fear.

"Well, she was beautiful, like an angel, sirs. But her hair had been all chopped up, perhaps a new fashion."

He attempted a laugh at his joke, but received nothing in response.

"She had fine skin, and what was left of her hair was a sandy color. Well, that's all I can really relate about her. Not so distinct as the man, you see, sirs."

"That will do, then."

Beckett flipped another coin to the boy. He gave a short bow, and started for the door.

Norrington's head was slightly downcast as he thought, what if it had been her? But no, couldn't be. And no way of telling. The boy was clueless, couldn't recognize the fugitives, even with their pictures in the streets...Their pictures!

"Wait, boy! Hold!"

The lad considered making a run for it, but decided they might want to give him more money, turned back.

"Yes sir?"

"If you were shown an image of a person, could you ascertain for sure whether it was the person aboard that ship?"

Not seeing any harm in it, he answered in the affirmative.

"Good show, Norrington."

Beckett rang a bell, and a butler promptly entered the room.

"Yes sir?"

The man had a slow, snooty voice as he addressed his employer. James had a good notion to inform him that this was an officer in His Majesty's service, but decided against it.

"I would like you to have my man servant bring in one of the wanted leaflets for Sparrow. Specifically one with his image printed on it."

"Is that ah-ll, Sir?"

Norrington again wanted to bash him with the butt of his blade for that tone of voice. He spoke as though through his nostrils.

"No, in addition, I want him to visit the old Swan residence. Bring back a likeness of Ms. Elizabeth Swan. And be quick about it."

"Yes sir, as you wish."

The butler turned on his heels and left the room with little, if any, haste.

Beckett turned to Norrington, raised his eyebrows in approval. He then looked to the boy, and smiled like a wolf to a lamb,

"And now we wait."

After fifteen minutes, the boy began to look weary, and feeling a slight tinge of compassion, Beckett offered him a chair,

"Thanks, gov'nor."

"Would the young master be at all interested in some tea?"

The young lad's eyes widened and he grinned widely as his head nodded rapidly. Norrington glared in disapproval, but the lord had a mind of his own. James might've gained his present position in the Navy by the same means as Beckett, but it was the latter who did not forget his humble beginnings.

Enjoying how much this little façade of kindness seemed to irk Norrington, Beckett continued to treat the orphan as an equal.

"I don't believe we ever formally introduced ourselves. I am Lord Beckett, current master of Port Royale, in the service of His Majesty the King of England."

He gave a short head nod,

"And this is Commodore James Norrington."

James gave no recognition of his name being said; his eyes simply stared into the wall with rage.

Beckett looked to the lad expectantly, and for a moment, it seemed as though the boy wasn't going to say anything. Luckily he caught on,

"Oh, I am-well, that is-they call me…um…"

He suddenly realized that, with his true name, they might track him down again.

"Samuel."

"Just Samuel?"

Sam nodded, not wanting to lie, but also refusing to include his last name. There were many other boy his age named Samuel.

"I hope regular breakfast tea is to your liking, Sam."

Beckett rung the bell for the afternoon tea. After five minutes, a maid came in with a service for three. As she poured the tea, a deafening roar erupted from the marina. Frightened, she nearly dropped the teapot.

Looking around, Sam asked what everyone in the room was wondering,

"What was that?"


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Memories

Beckett knew immediately. He had heard that noise before, only once. It was the cry of the Kraken. The beast had finally been captured, and better yet, was in his port. He smiled ruggedly. After all these years, he would finally have his revenge on the witless beast that had killed his entire family. He had been left, a mere child, alone and on the verge of death, to face the terror of the Flying Dutchmen's crew. But worse than all that was the captain.

Down on the decks of his ship, Jones looked down in shame. He had no heart, so he could feel no compassion for the beast he had valued as much as his ship. But he could feel shame, and knew that his was a deep betrayal. All those years ago, he had not wanted to spare the child. But she had come, and demanded he spare the life of the innocent. He closed his eyes, and allowed his memory to swim back, nearly two decades past, to that night.

_He had not seen her since she had first refused him, and had left him with no alternative. Because of her, he had removed his own heart. And now, she demanded that he feel sympathy for the young._

"_This son of man has committed no sin! His flesh is too young on this earth to deserve the damnation you would send him to!"_

"_Then he can join the crew. Why repent later what you can repent today? Ha ha ha har!!"_

_She glared at him, fire in her gaze. She had a hood up, but he could still see the burning fire of her eyes._

"_If I ever meant as much to you as you claim, you will comply with my wishes."_

_He glared back, with the icy coldness of his empty soul._

"_That was before. I've had a…a change of heart, and I don't feel anything for anyone!"_

_He gave the signal for the child's neck to be slit. But she was quick. From the folds of her hooded cloak, she brought forth a finely crafted box. She placed it between the executioner's blade and the boy's neck._

"_You will always feel for me."_

_The crewmen looked to their captain, some muttered,_

"_The ship needs a heart."_

_And those beside them hushed their fellows in fear of their captain's rage._

"_I will spare the boy. But you will return that to where it belongs, and never lay claim to it again. It is not yours to claim."_

"_I did once, and a heart is no easy gift to demand back."_

_Jones looked up to the enchantress, and a single, salty tear fell from his eye. But no more._

"_Be gone from here, and do not interfere with those on this ship ever again, witch."_

_For a moment, she appeared hurt, and took the young child into her arms for comfort._

_No longer to able to bear the sight of his lost love, Jones screamed_

"_NOW!!!"_

_Spittle flew from his lips, and an angry grimace covered his face_

"_Else, I'll set the Kraken free from even my hold!"_

_She picked up her skirts, took the child by the hand, and walked out into the mists of the sea._

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He had not seen her since. Not for 19 years had he seen or heard from her. But now, his dreams were filled with visions of her face, the sound of her voice. Even the scent of her hair haunted his sleep. He was well aware of why she sent him such reminders. She was a higher being than the race of men, but still took on that form. She was aware of all that occurred, and she was just as displeased with Jones' predicament as he was. But what she suggested in these prescient dreams she sent to him-it could not be.

After he had given into the frail demands of the woman, the beast had been slower in responding to its master's call. The crew thought Jones to have gone soft. And now, he had been forced to betray them all. It was a bitterness in his throat, even he, heartless Davy Jones, felt shame.

He looked over the sides of the ship and saw the English Navy throwing spears, shards of glass, and tangled fishing gear at the trapped beast. They jeered and laughed, some drunk, others simply intoxicated with power. His shame was quickly replaced with anger. He knew what was risked in disobeying his new master, but it was not worth this. The English Navy had made a debacle of him, his crewmen had low morale, and the beast he'd been entrusted to care for was dying. Crewmen of the Dutchmen walking by tried not to stare at Jones as the tentacles on his face began to twitch with anger, and foam mixed with ink dribbled slowly from the corners of his mouth. The Navy men, however, were not so wise. A private, in a shabby uniform, walked past, saw and began to stare. Suddenly, he burst out laughing. Looking up, Jones narrowed his eyes at the man, who shuddered in return. Drunk while on duty, the deathless-Captain shook his head with disgust. Without blinking an eyeball, Davy Jones impaled the Navy man with his crab-like arm. The private screamed silently; no sound escaped his lips without air to pass over the vocal cords. And Jones had cracked the entire rib cage, then pierced both of the lungs. He yanked is arm out of the dead man, and clutched the pinchers together. Between them was held the man's heart.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Revenge

For a moment, all those on deck simply stared. Some looked with bitter joy, others with resentment, but the mortal men cowered back. Knowing there was no turning back now, Jones yelled out orders to his crew.

"Men, I grow tired of this beat! Let's hear a different song!"

The cursed sailors screamed their pleasure. Half the crew set to work disposing of the Navy officers, whilst the other half made the ship ready to sail. Meanwhile, Jones himself went below deck, and began to play a roaring tune upon his organ, knowing he would

soon never play again.

Back up in his office, Beckett breathed deeply, knowing that his family's deaths were nearly avenged. As a child, he had heard tales of what lay in wait for those consumed by the Kraken. Terrified, he had pondered them, knowing his mother, father and baby sister had endured such a fate. Old sailors had spoke of how men swallowed by the beast did not die immediately, but were slowly digested. Others had said that the belly was simply a holding cell, like the cargo hold of a ship, and that once in there, a man wandered about in the stinking dark, till he starved to death. Some even told tales of how a man might be driven mad enough to eat one of his fellow prisoners. For a long while, the boy Beckett had hoped that perhaps his family was still alive. Perhaps some of the food provisions on the ship had also been consumed, and he might still rescue them. But no. That had been 19 years ago. He had never been able to thank the woman who had saved his life, but than, he did not even know who she was. But her voice had been familiar. Even now, he could still remember the tones of it.

He turned to smile at his guests. But found only the terrified faces of Samuel and the maid, and the grim, blank stare of Norrington.

"Thank-you, Maria, that will quite do."

Relieved, the maid gave a quick curtsy and left.

Thoroughly enjoying himself, Beckett turned to James and smirked wickedly,

"Skittish thing, isn't she?"

"You're a fool, Beckett"

"And why is that, James?"

"For bringing that beast into this harbor. There are innocent people here. You know very well we could have kept Jones and his crew away from the port and still accomplished what was necessary. But I allowed your ridiculous fancy of keeping the Flying Dutchmen under your sight. This time, you have gone too far. I demand that you send that creature back out to the ocean."

"You allowed _me?_ You make demands of _me_? I am your lord and the leading representative of His Majesty, James Norrington, you make no demands of me. Now shut up and drink your tea."

All the while, Sam had been watching both men's tempers rise, and did not know which one was truly in power. Sure enough, Beckett had the title. But every mother's son knew that the few Navy men stationed at Port Royale owed loyalty to Norrington.

Suddenly, the door burst open and Beckett's manservant entered, carrying a medium-sized black pouch.

"Here they are, milord."

"Thank-you, Skinner. I would like you to keep an eye on Jones' ship. Make sure the Kraken is kept under wraps, and take what ever precautions you find necessary."

"Aye, milord."

The man handed over the bag, gave a quick bow, and left. Skinner had no interest in playing nurse to a ship. Instead, he slipped into the kitchens and found Maria.

She turned around ready to hit whoever played with the strings of her dress, but she saw his face,

"Charles! It's you!"

"Aye, lassie."

"What are you doin here? Doesn't the master have work for ya?"

"Nothing that can't wait."

He winked at her, to emphasize his intentions. She smiled back,

"Oh, alright. But I've only got a short bit, aye?"

He led her into the back pantry. The ship was not watched, nor were the dishes washed.

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Beckett removed the contents of the bag Skinner had delivered; a rolled up leaflet and a framed painting. He first handed the leaflet to Sam.

"Is this the man you saw down on the ship?"

Sam didn't need to look again at the accurate image of Captain Jack Sparrow. He read the name, and immediately realized his peril. Before, he had not known who the man was, he'd never seen Sparrow, had only heard men and some women talk about him. And from what Sam had heard, Jack Sparrow was not a man to betray. Looking up, he saw Norrington eyeing him suspiciously. Sam made an effort of 'studying' the image.

"Well? Is this the man?"

"Well, gov'nor, I'm not right sure. The man I saw was a good deal…thinner, as though he'd not eaten for days."

Beyond his temper, Norrington unsheathed his sword and held it to Sam's neck.

"Is this the man you saw on that ship? I will know if you lie, boy."

The blade pressed into his neck, not yet drawing the blood, but making it difficult for Sam to breathe. Beckett swallowed painfully-his memory flashed back to his past, when a desperate man had likewise held a blade to his throat. He was about to tell James to stop,

but the boy finally spoke.

"Yes-that's the man what I saw."

Beckett nodded, and threw the leaflet on to the ground. He then picked up the framed painting, in the likeness of Elizabeth.

"And was this the girl?"

With his spark of youthful rebellion gone, Sam answered quickly this time,

"Aye sir, that'd be the miss. Like I said, purdy as an angel"

Beckett pulled his nose up in disgust,

"I couldn't agree less. Young Sam, I am going to give you this one piece of advice, and than I don't want to ever see your face again. Understood?"

The boy nodded, despising the man. Lord Beckett paused another moment for effect.

"Women who are perilously beautiful of the flesh are often perilously ugly in their souls. Unfortunately for Miss Swan, she is neither incredibly beautiful or terribly ugly; she is plain. But her soul is dark, and her mind corrupted. This is made most clear by her fraternization with a scoundrel like Jack Sparrow. And I can promise you, as pretty as her flesh may be to you, I can guarantee a woman of her moods is unlikely to have retained the purity of that flesh."

With this last sentence, he looked up to Norrington. James, with his name ruined, once before, would not have his spirit broken and the woman he loved denounced. With a crying rage, he sprang at Beckett, with sword drawn. Beckett dropped the framed likeness, and its glass shattered across the floor.

But Beckett was ready, he shot Norrington's sword arm with his pistol. His arm was uninjured, but the cutlass was ruined. Dropping it, James dove madly at Beckett with his fists raised. Both men began to grapple on the floor. Seeing his moment to escape, Sam ran for the door, but as he reached for the handle, Skinner came in with his own pistol drawn. Seeing the gun, Sam turned and ran for the window, and threw himself out of it. Once he hit the ground outside, only a four foot drop from the first floor office, he ran. Norrington's hands were nearly around Beckett's name, ready to strangle the man to death.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4: Too Close for Comfort

Back inside, Skinner took aim, but Becket yelled,

"Don't shoot you fool! You'll hit me!"

The manservant pocketed the weapon and pulled Norrington off of Beckett. Once James was restrained, he seemed to have calmed down. But he did not regret his actions.

"What took you so bloody long, Skinner?"

"I apologize milord, but you told me to keep that beast under control."

"What happened?"

"Well, the beast itself was behaving as best can be expected, but the ship…took up sails and left. I was only coming back to secure some cannon fire, but then I heard a gunshot. I thought nothing of it, until Maria told me it'd come from your office."

"What did you say about the ship? You didn't let it leave port, did you?"

Knowing that reminding his master that it was to Beckett's own aid that he had come running, Skinner simply nodded.

"You idiot! That was on the only ship left to our use in this port!"

The color ran from Skinner's face.

"My deepest apologies, milord. But they have only set sail less that a quarter of the hour ago. Perhaps you could still-"

"Yes, I suppose military use of civilian craft has precedence in such situations. So be it, find such a craft and see that it is outfitted, and no dallying this time Skinner!"

"Aye, milord."

He turned and ran to obey.

Beckett turned to survey the now manacled James Norrington.

"As much as I would like to see you hang, it appears I require your skills as a captain."

James answered bitterly,

"How fortunate for us both."

"You will prepare a crew, taking what you need from the jail, to sail one of the smaller galleys."

"I hate to point this out to you; we have no more men in the jail left, unless I am to man a ship with the former Governor."

"Then shang hai some men into service! It wasn't so long ago that you let yourself be lowered to piracy, why should doing it in His Majesty's service be so different?"

"This is not in His Majesty's service. This is your obsessive pursuit of one man!"

"That may be so. But let me remind you of one little detail."

"Oh? What's that?"

"If you ever want to see your precious little wife again, I suggest you do what is best in both our interests, and to Hell with His Majesty."

"Aye, Lord Beckett."

Norrington turned and left, scowling darkly. He hated being a slave to a man. But Beckett was right-he had no choice.

After he left, Beckett bent and picked up what was left of the likeness of Elizabeth. He pulled the parchment from the frame, and glittering bits of glass slid off and tinkled to the floor. He looked at her face with interest now. He realized there was a certain semblance of her face to someone he knew, or once knew. As he held the picture, another slip of parchment fell from behind it. They had been attached by a thin sheet of wax that had worn out. He picked up the second image, a likeness of Elizabeth when she was but a child. He knew that face. A madness gripped him. With haste, he stalked to the stables, mounted his steed, and rode off alone to the prisons.

He lightly jogged to the cell holding former Governor Weatherby Swan. The man sat huddled in the corner, shivering with chills. Beckett turned to the guard,

"Open this cell. I wish to-to interrogate this man for, um…crimes against the crown."

"You don't want to be doing that, sir."

"And why is that?"

"This one's got the Consumption."

"Open the door, you fool!"

The man obeyed, and as the metal clicked open, Swan turned over to look at the man who intruded on to his death bed.

"Lord Beckett? What are you-"

Swan went into a vicious coughing fit. Beckett pulled out a handkerchief, and covered his own mouth and nose. After what seemed an eternity, Swan finally quit coughing. But when he pulled his dirty sleeve away, it was covered in spatters of blood.

"I see that it is difficult for you to speak, so I will make this brief"

"And since when are you so benevolent?"

It appeared he would begin to cough again, but he held it back. Tears of pain stung his eyes.

"Who is Elizabeth's mother?"

Weatherby paused for a moment, but answered firmly,

"My wife, God rest her soul."

He looked heavenward, and swallowed painfully.

"You lie."

"If you know that much, then why do you waste your breath questioning me?"

"I want to hear you say it. Tell me the name of her mother."

He glared at Swan, it was the stare of a madman. A man who has spent his entire life hell-bent on one purpose, only to find it to be false. It seemed as though Swan would be relentless, however, and would leave Beckett forever questioning the depths of his own soul. But he finally looked down, and answered solemnly,

"I never learned the woman's name. She came to my wife, begging that we take the child and raise it as our own. My Samantha always was a soft hearted, gentle woman. When she brought the baby home, I was not so surprised as confused. Why had she not offered shelter and lodging to the woman? She told me that the woman had-had…"

"Had what?"

Swan knew better than to test this man's patience, which is why he had paused. He was not sure if Beckett would believe him, humor what his now-dead wife had told him with truth in her eyes.

"The woman had vanished."

"As convenient as it might be, women do not simply vanish."

"She walked out into the sea on a wisp of fog, never to be seen again."

Swan looked down, and sighed. Beckett furrowed his brows in concentration, and appeared to buy it. Weatherby looked up, in hope that the man intended to leave. But Beckett had another question

"When was this? What day, of what month in which year?"

Believing that the man might finally depart, Swan answered quickly. His wife had died but a week after the child had arrived, so the day was fresh and clear in his mind.

"October 15th, 19 years ago."

Beckett rose, nodded sharply, and removed the handkerchief from his face.

"Thank-you, Master Swan. I apologize for the terms we have been forced to face each other on. Perhaps if things had been different, we might have been comrades."

"I would think not."

"I am sorry you feel that way. But worry not, my benevolence, as you named it, has not yet worn out. I am sorry for your wife. You probably miss her greatly."

Beckett raised his pistol, and fired a single shot into Swan's chest. The bullet struck the broken man's heart, killing him immediately.

"But not any more."

"What in the name of the Holy Mother have you done, you spineless bastard?!"

It was Norrington, come to fetch Beckett for the last voyage after Sparrow.

"I have put a man out of his misery. So sorry you had to see that, James. Shall we?"

"That was-was-Elizabeth's father!"

"Actually, no. Elizabeth's father has been dead for 19 years, in the belly of the Kraken."

Beckett had never been more sure of anything in all his life. Elizabeth Swan was his sister, the baby sister he thought he'd lost on that fateful night 19 years ago. She'd only been two years-old, she would not possibly remember the incident, much less her brother.

Norrington stood puzzled for a moment, not understanding. He knew very little of Lord Cutler Beckett's past, but one thing was notorious. The entire Navy, and many pirates also, were aware of the fact that he was the only one to escape both Kraken and Jones. But he had lost his family in the process, 19 years ago. James narrowed his eyes.

"Do you mean…no, that would make her…its not possible."

"Not plausible, and certainly not to anyone's advantage but her own. No, now my hold over Sparrow is nothing. I do not think I might have my own sister hanged."

Quickly realizing the risk of such a slip of the tongue in his current company, Cutler made an effort to cover for his words.

Norrington raised his eyebrows in alarm, and made a motion as though to draw his sword.

"Eh, not that I would consider such an act, James. Seeing as she is your wedded wife. We'll just have to find another bargaining tool against Sparrow."

James snorted and shook his head,

"You are apparently unaware of the character of Jack Sparrow."

"And why would you say that?"

"Jack wouldn't give a damn if you threatened to main, harm, hang or otherwise cause pain to Elizabeth. He has no care for any skin but his own. And you cannot effectively threaten his life. If he is alive, doubtful, it is even less likely you will be able to frighten him. He's faced the Kraken and won."

"So have I."

James was about to continue, for some reason, to build up the image of Sparrow. But this single statement from Beckett made him stop, mid thought.

Taking advantage of the Captain's silence, Beckett spoke with unquestionable authority,

"And I am aware of the spiritual depths of Jack Sparrow. He might willingly sacrifice the life of a man in the interest of his own good, but women are his weakness. A woman with fever enough to offer as Ms. Swan would hold sway over Jack."

"Little good that does us. He has her already, if that sniveling little git, Sam, was telling the truth"

"Too true. We're going to have to come up with a new plan…But in the meantime, I believe we have a ship to board. Have you a crew readied, Norrington?"

Standing to attention, James nodded.

"Aye, sir. They should be loading stores and provisions now. We should be able to depart within the hour."

Military operations came easily to Norrington, like breathing. And it helped distract him from the thought of his darling Elizabeth with Jack Sparrow

"Excellent. Alert my man, Skinner. After that you may join me on deck and make the order to pull anchor."

Norrington scowled, he had gone from a man high up in the King's Navy to a currying dog. He caught sight of the ship as he climbed the stairs out of the filthy prison, and that sight made him smile grimly. Finally, they were on the hunt.


End file.
